If It Kills Me
by breakingmedown
Summary: What I imagine would have transpired between Buffy and Angel when they meet following her return from death. Hey a girl can dream. B/A


**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters or the premise in which they meet. Everything following the moments provided via BtVS and Joss was a product of my imagination.

The crisp night air enveloped her. The distant sound of traffic and sirens did little to pull her focus from her book. In the courtyard of the Hyperion, Fred's eyes roamed over the words in her book until Angel's attendance interrupted her quiet musings.

"Hi."

"Hey. - How's your head? S-sorry about all that..." and she meant it.

When she saw the confusion flash across his face she made hitting movements triggering the memory.

"Ah, I - gather I - had it coming." In truth he didn't remember and he didn't feel like he deserved her apology.

"Mmm. - Yes."

Angel slowly made a move to sit next to her and when he saw there was no objection he turned to her and attempted to explain.

"Fred, I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

She had felt his mood shift and set her book down giving him her full attention, "Okay."

For a moment Angel sat silently staring into the dark starless night.

Fred, sensing her chance, beat him to the punch, "Is this about how you're not like other men - what with that curse and all... and how you're really fond of me, but that's as far at it goes?"

"Uhm... - yeah."

Fred sensed there was more to the details than she had alluded to, but she knew they could be friends only and that was all the explanation she needed. "Cordelia explained it to me." She chuckled under her breath trying to mask her disappointment. "She said you'd probably just screw it up."

"Oh, she did, did she? - And she's probably right." He tried to be sarcastic but knew the truth to his words.

Fred sighed and looked down avoiding his gaze.

Angel, concerned his attempt to keep their conversation lighthearted had failed, tried to turn her attention back to him. "What?"

"It's like something out of Fitzgerald. - The man who can have everything but love. - Well, maybe in some ways you're better off, because love is... - Well, in a way it's everything. - But it's also heartache and disappointment. - And those are good things to avoid." She finished and looked toward him. Her speech had been as much about convincing herself about the evils of love as it was about convincing him. His reaction told her he knew exactly about heartache.

Just then Cordelia came hurrying out and Angel and Fred turned their heads to look at her.

Cordelia obviously breathless struggled to finally get her news out. "Angel, Willow's on the phone... She's alive! Buffy's alive!"

With that Cordy turned back and rushed inside picking up the receiver and continuing her conversation.

Angel and Fred looked at each other for a beat then Angel jumped up running into the hotel after Cordy. She had the phone in her hand ready to hand over as soon as he came rushing in.

"She wants to talk to you."

He reached for the phone and Cordelia left his office, quietly shutting the door behind her. He placed the phone to his ear and hesitated. He had rushed so quickly to the phone but found that he couldn't muster the courage to speak. Thoughts poured through him. What if it wasn't her? What if she didn't want to see him? And suddenly the fear of losing her all over again paralyzed him.

"Angel?"

And just like that he found the proof he needed in her voice. "Buffy?"

"Hey."

"Hey." He wanted to say so much more but at that moment his simple response was all that came to mind.

"So I'm not dead… anymore. I just thought you should know in case – okay, well I don't know why you would need to know I just figured…" he heard the unsteadiness in her voice as her ramblings trailed into silence.

"I'm glad you told me."

"Okay well then – I guess"

"Can I – I mean could I see you?" He wasn't sure how she felt, but he needed to see her to convince himself this was _his_ Buffy.

"Yeah, okay. Does the beach work for you?"

"Can you make it in an hour?" Suddenly the reality of seeing the woman he thought would be lost to him forever was pulling at him, creating a sense of urgency to the situation.

"Yep. I'm out the door." With her final words he hung up, reached for his coat and grabbed his keys. He was out of the office door and starting up his convertible before Cordelia had time to ask where he was headed. He figured it wouldn't take her long to figure it out.

It had only taken him 39 minutes. As soon as he pulled up he regretted driving so fast because now he was stuck waiting with nothing but the sound of the waves to accompany his wandering thoughts. He stayed glued to his seat peering into the endless dark letting his imagination run away with him.

When she finally pulled up her headlights pulled him from his brooding. She pulled up next to his old convertible shutting off the engine and dousing the lights plunging them once again into the darkness. He stepped out of the car but didn't move towards her. Instead they kept their distance and let the silence surround them.

Angel spoke first. "You look good."

"Yeah, for a dead girl I guess I'm not too shabby."

"You're not dead anymore." He reminded her gently, sensing her resurrection was a sensitive subject. "And you look good by any standard."

"Well, thank you. Although you're a little biased in that area." She let her eyes slide down to her feet, inhaling deeply as if it was the first real breath she took since she left Sunnydale. "I knew this wasn't going to be easy."

If it hadn't been for his exceptional vampire hearing he would have missed her last remark she said it so softly. "What wasn't?"

"Seeing you." She pulled her gaze to his and saw the hurt cross his features. "Don't get me wrong, Angel. I wanted to see you, maybe I even needed to see you but it's just harder than I'd like it to be."

"I'm sorry I'm making this hard on you. Maybe I'm being a little selfish here, asking you to meet me so soon. We could always reschedule."

She could see how hard it was for him to say that. Like it was physically painful for him to even consider her leaving. "No, I don't think I'm ready to go back just yet."

Angel let himself internally breathe a sigh of relief. He looked her over, carefully reminding himself of every part of her delicate frame, matching this Buffy to the Buffy of his memories. He could tell she was exhausted and he motioned for her to sit on the hood of his convertible. She was hesitant at first, but her legs were achingly tired and she wasn't sure how much longer she could stand on her own. She sat and felt the warmth of the engine on her legs. She was painfully aware of Angel's closeness as he took a seat next to her.

Neither one removed their eyes from the crashing waves. They kept perfectly still, careful not to touch and careful not to create anymore distance between them.

"I'm sorry, Buffy."

She was caught off guard and turned to look at him. "Sorry? For what?"

"I'm sorry that losing you didn't kill me. That I could deal with it. - In all those years - no one ever mattered. Not like you did. And I wasn't even there. I didn't even go to your funeral." Angel's voice broke on the last word. He didn't plan on admitting that particular detail, but now that she was back he felt she deserved to know.

"Angel, you don't need to be sorry for any of that."

"I'm sorry anyway."

Angel's eyes finally left his hands and examined her face. Gently he lifted his hand to her cheek, brushing over her skin, barely touching her. Involuntarily she leaned into his palm and found herself burying her face into his chest. She felt tears fall down her face, but she wasn't crying. He was holding her but she kept her hands wrapped around her stomach. She was very careful not to feel too much in the moment.

When she pulled out of his embrace she could tell he was worried about her. "Stop. I'm fine." To prove her point she used the back of her hand to wipe away the lingering tears and straightened herself.

"You were never a very convincing liar, Buffy."

"Look Angel, it's the truth. I'm fine. It's just going to take me time to recover. It's not easy to come back from death. You of all people should know."

"You're right, it wasn't simple." Angel's voice was stronger now. He gingerly wrapped his hands around her wrists. "But, you were what made it easier for me. Or at least tolerable."

"I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I just don't know how to be in this world… I'm just a little lost."

"Tell me."

He was staring through her, burning his gaze into her soul. She didn't understand his plea. "What do you mean?"

"I want you to tell me, I want you to be honest with me."

"Angel, I don't understand."

Angel could tell she was sincere. "I wish you felt like you could tell me."

"Tell you what, Angel? What are you talking about?"

Buffy was panicking. The desperation in Angel's voice was convincing her something was wrong, but she was unable to pin point the source of his concern. He stayed silent but the look he was giving her was too much to bear.

"Angel, seriously, what is it? You're scaring me."

"Tell me about heaven, Buffy."

Immediately she ripped her hands from his grasp. Abruptly Buffy stood taking a few steps toward the ocean. "I can't, Angel. I was in hell… and Willow she saved me."

"I know better, Buffy. You don't have to pretend with me."

Angel stood maintaining the distance between them. Slowly Buffy turned to face him, more composed and steady than when he had first caught her off guard.

"I'm not pretending. When I died – I was in hell and Willow's spell it brought me back. She saved me."

"You weren't in hell Buffy. You were in heaven. And Willow's spell didn't save you. Willow's spell brought you back here, to a place where you could get hurt again."

"Please, Angel." Slowly Buffy's resolve was crumbling. Angel was positive of the truth and her lies were as unconvincing for him and they had been for her.

"You can tell me."

"Okay." Buffy was quiet but reigned in her emotions. "You're right, Willow tore me out of heaven. I woke up in a coffin and I had to dig my way out of my own grave. So what?"

"My God Buffy, I'm sorry." Her confession had pierced his heart with every word.

"Don't be. I'm the slayer… no rest for the – well, for me."

He ignored her indifference towards the situation and waited in silence for her to say something honest, something true about what she was feeling.

"How did you know? That I was lying about hell, I mean."

"Buffy, of course I knew. How do you think I went on after you… left? I know the kind of person that deserves damnation… hell, I am one. And you, you could never deserve anything less than heaven."

"It seems you're the only one who thought so and like I said earlier you're biased."

"No Buffy. You're friends, they brought you back for their own selfish reasons, and if I didn't love you the way that I do I probably would have convinced myself that bringing you back was the right thing too. But they know, deep down, they always knew. They just needed you too much to let you go."

"And you didn't? Need me?"

"I needed you to be happy."

"Then why didn't you stop them!"

"They never told me, and I'd like to think I would have… stopped them. But I don't know… Two hours ago the thought of having you back in my life would have been very tempting, no matter the circumstances."

"I just – I can't do this anymore. I can't – I have to go."

Buffy turned to leave, but Angel grabbed hold of her. She tried to push him away but he did not budge. He wrapped his arms around her tiny frame and lifted her into his embrace. He opened the door to his convertible and placed her gently into the back seat, moving in next to her. Without ever losing contact, he pulled her into his lap and held her while she cried. He ran his cold hands through her hair, down her back, soothing her, kissing her hair, reassuring her of his presence.

Her salty tears blended into the smells of the ocean and with time her cries quieted until she merely rested in his arms. The coolness of his skin calmed her flushed features and she matched her breathing to his. The familiarity of his arms, his scent, his voice eased her into a quiet sleep. And for three hours he held her and protected her while the ocean retreated into the tide.


End file.
